Kicking the Can by Scott C. Glennie Page A

alone, he knew the heartache would eat at him like cancer. He looked at the ocean and sunset, trying to push the dreadful thought out of his mind.
    “How is Gorbachev viewed by the Russian people two decades after the Cold War?”
    “Are you prepared to be here all night?” Baturina chuckled, and then her humor faded. “It’s a complex and multivalent story. Gorbachev will be remembered for
Perestroika
!” Baturina spoke with punch, “the movement to restructure our economic and political systems. We were caught up in the excitation of new ideals and opportunities—television footage of the Berlin Wall coming down, a heady time.”
    Baturina used a knife to slide meat and vegetables off a skewer onto her plate. Drummond forked a piece of sirloin and grilled pineapple into his mouth.
    “Gorbachev admitted he erred trying to reform the Communist Party. He’s gone on record saying the creation of a new party would have been favored. And he didn’t foresee Yeltsin as a threat. Missed opportunities—mistakes were made.”
    “These kebobs are excellent.” Drummond stopped to swallow before speaking again. “The yellow and orange peppers are my favorites.”
    “I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal.”
    “It hasn’t been a total disaster. In the post-Soviet era, women have become more economically motivated. As a class, we’ve outperformed men. My degree in industrial psychology, IP, opened the doors to executive management at IBM Russia. I work with upper-level managers on leadership training, development, and team-building skills. Understanding what motivates people and how communication and human interactions affect behaviors and roles among team members is a discipline unto itself. Teams have to work through different stages to achieve high performance.”
    Baturina and Drummond walked out on the deck to see the sun doused by the ocean.
    “I have ideas, but I’m looking for suggestions…How can we pull together and do our best work?”
    “Four weeks, ethnic and cultural differences, no previous work history—it’ll be challenging. Like all humans, most of us have issues. They gave me a file with select personal information. It’s incomplete. I’m not sure how helpful it will be.”
    Drummond didn’t ask, and Baturina didn’t volunteer more information.
    “Building trust is predicated on balancing a willingness to protect each person from perceived vulnerability, with an expectation others will reciprocate. Trust starts when individuals ‘unpack their bags’ and discover how their life experiences influence values and beliefs. Understanding at the lowest common denominator is how you build a foundation. It’s best done one-on-one. It’s essential you take the lead.”
    Drummond admired Baturina for her honesty and forthright manner. They didn’t have time to play games, and her consultation seemed genuine.
    “I recommend you meet with each team member, just as you did with me tonight. Your instincts are correct. You started with a probing question—Gorbachev.”
    Drummond thought about Baturina’s responses. “What would you say to a shared meal—the entire team—later this week when everyone’s on the island?” Drummond asked.
    “Funny you suggest that. I’ve been working on the menu. Cala said she has a lazy Susan with a forty-eight-inch diameter.”

35
    C hris Drummond smelled mineral spirits through the open door. He knocked twice.
    “Who is it?”
    “Chris Drummond.”
    “Door open.”
    Pan Jiang was standing in front of an easel, positioned to spy the panoramic vistas through oversized picture windows. Looking south, she saw the beach through thinned palm trees. Beyond, a stunted atoll stood sentry over the blue expanse. In her left hand, she held a white palette. Her right hand darted back and forth, the brush dabbing at globules of paint to create color. Jiang was tall. She stood barefoot on travertine tiles wearing khaki shorts and a dark tank top. The muscles in her calves